So, Doable John wanders into another room of the ramshackle farmhouse to smear his own damn blood all over the wall, and Darling Sammy wanders after him to engage in a lengthy and heartfelt conversation regarding the...you know what? I totally don't give a shit. It's all just some great, big, aggravatingly endless dialogue about how Sam, at long last, has come to forgive Sucky John for the miserable, wretched, and horribly fucked-up way he raised his sons, and there's this entire goddamn emotionally manipulative string section sawing away on the soundtrack, and The Ginormomope's totally sobbing like a tiny little girl, and I WAS TOLD THERE WOULD BE NO CHICK FLICK MOMENTS, and look at that! It's over. "What a relief!"
Somewhere woodsy, Anna stands knee-deep in dead leaves until fluttery noises at her back herald the arrival of everyone's favorite angelic badass, Uriel, who's looking much younger tonight, likely because his regular Vessel's only twenty-five years old in 1978. In fact, he looks like a completely different person, but we'll pretend we didn't notice that and instead listen in on their conversation. Uriel begins by chiding her for summoning him, reminding her, "We're under strict orders not to come down here, much less take a Vessel." Anna remains still and expressionless until her subordinate finally realizes, "You're not the Anna of now." "No," she admits before LYING, "but thirty years from now, I'm still your superior, and I need you to kill some humans." Uriel's all, "Hey, I'm always up for a good smiting. Where's the party?" DUN!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Unburnt Mary and Her French-Flip Curls are still soaking the rotting floorboards with highly flammable Jerusalem oil when Dashing El Deano wanders in from elsewhere, BANDAGING THE CUT HE SLICED INTO HIS OWN GODDAMNED PALM, and Unburnt Mary demands he spill everything he knows about Anna The Avenging Angel, now. Dean hems and haws and stutters and stammers and finally gets to the point: "I'm your son." Unburnt Mary: "Bullshit." Well, in so many broadcast TV-friendly words. By way of proof, Dean points out that he and Sam were named for Mary's parents, and he remembers that Unburnt Mary would make Wee Him tomato rice soup when he was sick because that's what her own mother used to do back in the day, and he wraps it all up by noting Unburnt Mary eschewed traditional lullabies in favor of crooning her favorite Beatles tune, "Hey Jude." Unburnt Mary, getting all teary-eyed, takes a moment to process through all of that before realizing with appropriate amounts of self-loathing and horror, "I raised my kids to be hunters?" "No!" Dean hastens to assure her. "No," he repeats before completely blowing what's left of her fragile little mind with the following: "You didn't do it, because you're dead." Unburnt Mary's luxuriously lashed doe eyes widen as Dean fills her in on certain relevant Ceiling Demon-related events currently scheduled to take place five years in the future, and he tries to convince her to alter established history by doing everything in her power to avoid the events he's just described, but a suddenly appearing Ginormomope interrupts the conversation at this point to sulk, "It's not good enough, Dean -- wherever she goes, the demon's gonna find her." "Well, then, what?" Dean snaps. "She can leave [Doable John], that's what," Sam sighs, leaning heavily against a doorframe. "So we're never born!" Dean understands. "He's right," Dean continues, but Unburnt Mary, now openly weeping, is having none of it. "I can't!" she protests. "You're saying you're my children, and now you're saying..." "You have no other choice," Sam shrugs. Dean leaps in to argue, "There's a big difference between dying and never being born, and trust me, we're okay with it! I promise you that!" I know I really shouldn't do this during so touching and heartfelt a moment, but: HA! Poor Dean. Poor miserable, wretched, horribly tormented Dean. Hee.